It's Time
by Maijajo
Summary: Lindsay's life story, connected by two words that weave their way throughout. Eventual DL. Rated T to be safe, though not in early chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:**__Okay, a new story – I promised Elainhe I'd post if she did, so … HERE! It's a Lindsay – centric story, following her life and the significance of two words throughout, so no Danny til a bit later. Hope you like. Also, thanks Elainhe for the beta. _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own 'em!_

**It's Time**

_1984_

_Alzada, Montana_

Lindsay Monroe was the youngest of 5. She was always being told what to do, where to go, and when to do it. Her single-most hated two-word combination of all time? "It's time."

"Lindsay! It's time to get up! You're going to be late for school." "It's time for dinner! Your friends have to go home!" "Lindsay, it's time for the doctor!"

Everyone was telling her what time it was. And today, as she sat on the faded chintz sofa in her grandmother's parlor, she waited to be beckoned into her grandmother's bedroom. It was there Lindsay first discovered the wonders of makeup, her Mimi lovingly applying blush and lovely-smelling powder to her tiny cheeks. A touch of "Telltale Pink" on her toenails. Her wonderful Mimi – everyone else called her Grandma, only Lindsay had the honor of Mimi. Mimi of the silken hair, remarkably unlined face and brilliant green eyes.

Now Mimi was laying in her bed, sunken, eaten away from the inside by a vicious monster her Mommy and Daddy called cancer. Mommy, Mimi's daughter, was in with her now. Soon, she would call Lindsay in to say good-bye. She closed her eyes as tight as she could, willing the sadness to go away.

"Lindsay."

She forced her eyes open to see her mother's tearstained face as she knelt before her daughter. "Mom?"

Michelle Monroe touched her youngest's face gently. "It's time."

Those words again.

Her feet like lead weights, Lindsay made her way into Mimi's room, the one that used to smell of roses but now held the antiseptic odor of a sick room. Tears sprang into her eyes as threw herself on the weakened figure of her grandma.

"Mimi! Don't go! I love you. You have to see Dr. Scheider. He'll make you all better."

Despite her illness, Elizabeth Lockhart's green eyes still sparkled with warmth for her youngest grandchild. "Sweetheart, Dr. Scheider has done all he can. I need to go see Grandpa."

Grandpa, Mimi's husband, had died before Lindsay was born, but pictures of him were everywhere in the cheerful little house. Sometimes, Mimi even read her the love letters he sent while he was in the war.

"He's in heaven, waiting for me. And we will watch you grow together. We'll just pull up a cloud and peak in on our special girl."

"Not yet, Mimi! I need you here!"

Gently, her grandma lifted her chin until brown eyes met green ones. "Lindsay, honey, it's time." Lindsay closed her eyes tightly, as if they could shut the dreaded phrase out.

Later that day, Elizabeth Lockhart drifted away, and, oddly, according to her mother, she had a smile on her face. Lindsay overheard her telling Daddy about it. "I was sitting with her, and suddenly, her face lit up. 'Drew,' she said. That's what she called my father. 'You've come.' I started to ask her what was wrong, and she was gone."

Lindsay's Daddy had gathered Mommy close. "Maybe your Dad came to get her, sweetheart. At least she's not in pain any more."

"I know, Robert, but I miss her! I didn't want to let her go."

"I know, 'Chelle, but it's time."

From her hidden corner, Lindsay's eyes had narrowed. _It's time_. Damn those words.

_June 27, 1990_

_Custer County Sheriff's Department_

_Miles City, Montana_

Lindsay distractedly fiddled with the ends of her brown curls in the small room off the main entryway. Her mother and father sat nearby, still looking shell-shocked. Deputy Newblatt had already taken her statement, meted out in fits and starts, punctuated by sobs and comforting hugs from her parents.

Her friends. Kelly, Jessica, Angie. They were all dead. For some reason, she had been spared. The question of why would haunt her for years to come.

They hadn't caught the man – the one with dark hair and dead eyes that shot all her friends in cold blood – but Lindsay prayed they would. The worst had been when the other parents had started arriving. Jessie's mom had literally fainted, her dad helplessly trying to help her in the midst of his own powerful grief. Kelly's parents just screamed. She had never heard a man scream before. She hoped it was the last time.

Angie's mom had been the worst. She took it almost calmly – Lindsay's mom would later say she was in shock. Then, she had turned to Lindsay. "Why are you here? Why aren't you dead? Why aren't you laying there in that morgue next to my baby? Did you know him? WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Finally, a couple of deputies had pulled her away, leaving Lindsay shaking with fear and grief. Her mom had gently explained that in particular, this was devastating to Angie's mom, who was alone. Angie was her only child, and her husband had left years ago.

Now Lindsay waited for Deputy Newblatt to come back. He needed her official identification. The building also housed the Cascade County Coroner's office, and Lindsay needed to identify the body of Maggie Littleton, the out-of-towner who was working at Muskie's for the summer.

The deputy had promised them Maggie would be covered, and look as if she was sleeping, but Lindsay, who had heard her scream from the dank little bathroom, knew this wasn't possible. On one hand, she wanted to get it over with. On the other hand, an irrational part of her felt that if she didn't ID Maggie, she wasn't really dead.

For now, she had to wait. Wait for those dreaded words to come again.

Suddenly, the door opened and Deputy Newblatt, with his acne-scarred face and nervous manner (he was only 2 years older than her brother Bobby) came in, hitching his belt and taking a deep breath.

"The coroner's ready for you, Miss Monroe." He coughed.

_Don't say it_.

"It's time."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people._

_**Author's note:** Moving onto Lindsay's young adulthood. Don't worry, Danny will be coming a couple chapters from now. Thanks for all your support, especially Elainhe for her beta. _

**CHAPTER 2**

_August, 29, 1991_

_Alzada, MT_

She packed everything she could. Actually, she had done that four days ago, but her Dad told her there was no way he would schlep two trunks and nine suitcases to her dorm room at the University of Great Falls.

Lindsay was not a materialistic girl, but nonetheless could not imagine how to pack 18 years of life into a few cases. At least, as many that would fit in the bed of Daddy's old pickup.

Sighing, she gave a final glance over the final tally of one trunk (books, décor and bedding) and five suitcases: two for clothing, one for undergarments, one kitchen stuff (napkins, plates, basic silverware, snacks to get her started) and one full of personal mementos. It was this last suitcase that remained open.

She spent the previous evening going through all the scrapbooks detailing the life of one Lindsay Monroe. Pictures of her birth and baptism – she in a white frilly baby gown and her happy parents; her brothers, Andy, Patrick and Robert Jr., and sister Beth, depicted through the ages. Her heart ached. They only seemed to make it around Mom's huge dining room table once a year at Christmas.

Images of a life. A flour-covered face at age 2, earned "helping" Mimi make cookies; her first birthday party at Rogers' Horse Farm when she was 7; a trip to the capitol building in Helena with her middle school history class; she, Kelly, Jessica and Angie mugging for the camera from Jessica's pool the summer before junior year.

Tears threatened. It had been a lifetime since she had felt that carefree and happy. A familiar anger swelled as she thought of their killer still free while her friends were cold in the ground.

Now she was headed to the University of Great Falls, nearly 450 miles away from her family, friends and all that was familiar. To take that first big step from home, away from the bosom of her mother and those who loved her. That step into her future, one that would give her the skills to support herself and find killers that eluded police like the man who killed her friends.

NYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNY

Early the next morning, she sat on the couch with her mother, both fighting back tears as her dad worked to load her worldly possessions into the truck. "How can I help you to say good-bye?" she asked tearfully, quoting one of her favorite Patty Loveless songs.

Michelle Monroe gently brushed her daughter's tears away. "It's not good-bye, Lindsay. It's 'see you soon.' Remember, baby girl, you're always in my heart."

The two women hugged each other: one facing a milestone in motherhood as her youngest headed away from home, the other on the cusp of adulthood. Both faced these stages with excitement and trepidation for the future, sadness and nostalgia for the past.

Lindsay heard her father slowly making his way toward the living room. Eyes closed tightly, she could hear him at the doorway.

_Oh no, not yet. Just a few more minutes._

"Lindsay, sweetheart?"

_Don't say it. _

"It's time."

_June 24, 1998_

_University of Great Falls_

_Great Falls, Montana_

"Lindsay Monroe. Summa Cum Laude. Master of Science."

Shoulders back, head high, Lindsay felt a surge of pride as she swept across the stage in her graduation gown, tassel swingy jauntily. She accepted her diploma with a firm thank you and smile, listening to her family's boisterous cheers above more restrained applause.

"Lindsay, WOOOOOOOOOO! You ROCK!"

She laughed as she descended the stairs. Bobby. The oldest and loudest of them all. He had flown in from South Dakota, where he was a forest ranger, the night before. Her entire family there, for her.

_The next morning …_

The family, all seven of them, took over the corner of the Bob Evan's restaurant near the Holiday Inn. It was early, and Lindsay felt a familiar sadness mixed with the joy of seeing her family together. After breakfast they would all be gone: her siblings scattered to their lives in and out of the state, her parents back home to the ranch in Alzada.

Alzada. Her home, except not. Later that morning, she would begin her journey to Bozeman, where she would become the police department's first female CSI. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

Two hours later – it took a lot of time and silverware to feed the voracious Monroe family – Lindsay had said good-bye to her family. Her parents had been the last to go. Her dad's voice had been roughened by tears as he bid farewell, hugging her so tightly, her ribs actually cracked.

"Proud of ya, girl."

Michelle touched her daughter's cheek gently. "Good-b---"

Lindsay silenced her mother with gentle fingers. "No, Mama. Not good-bye. See you soon."

Tears slipped down her mother's cheeks. "See you soon," she whispered. And they were gone.

NYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNY

An hour and a good cry later, Lindsay had wrestled the last of her bags into her Dad's old Ford, the very same that had taken her to the University of Great Falls over six years ago.

Her truck loaded, Lindsay went and sat on the tailgate, pondering her future.

She had started on her occupational path with the lofty goal of finding her friends' killer, spending a couple of years with the local sheriff's department while pursuing her master's degree. Now, enthusiasm and passion for her chosen craft had her focused on not falling flat in Bozeman, where chauvinists likely waited, barbs and sexist comments loaded in their arsenal.

But she could take it. As the first female in Custer County history to win the barrel-racing competition at the 4H fair, she was used to male chauvinism. The boys in Bozeman could bring it on.

The bravado got Lindsay off her tail gate and to her driver's side door, where she readied herself with one more sigh. It didn't matter what she told herself. She was still scared shitless.

Glancing around one more time before getting in, a grim smile crossed her features.

_C'mon, Lindsay, _she told herself_. Say it loud and proud._

"It's time."

With that, Lindsay Monroe, Bozeman's first female CSI, was on her way.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:**_

**Chapter 3**

_July 15, 2005  
Chappy's Diner  
Bozeman, Montana_

CSI Lindsay Monroe had worked in Bozeman for nearly 7 years, enduring countless comments about what a cute young filly she was, endless stares at her breasts and bottom (or T&A, as her brother Andy always called it), and many, many gruesome crime scenes. There was the young couple mauled by a bear on state land. The abusive husband shot point blank in the face with a double-barreled shotgun by his wife. The errant hooker carved into pieces by a sadistic john.

Lindsay had gotten through it all, if not with ease, than with focus and determination. She now had the respect of most, if not all, of her colleagues. But sitting outside Chappy's Diner on Court Street at 5 a.m., she tried valiantly to keep her knees from knocking.

Officers were still clearing the scene, but she and her partner, Jack "Abe" Abraham had a few particulars. The short order cook had come in for his shift at 4:30 a.m. and found the back door ajar. Inside were the bodies of Josef Stanislaw, the 56-year-old owner, a Polish émigré who opened the diner 30 years ago; his wife, Anna; two teenagers who likely stopped in for a bite before doors closed at 2 a.m.; and an elderly couple.

Lindsay's mind kept flashing back to another diner, 15 years before, filled with the bodies of her best friends. Kelly, Jessica, Angie. All frozen in time in her memories. All haunting her dreams.

"Hey! Monroe! Abe! We've cleared it." Detective John Tomzak bellowed from the front of the diner. "All clear."

Lindsay shuddered and rose mutely and followed him to the diner, each step taken with dread. _C'mon Monroe. You've handled worse scenes._ She continued to walk until they came to the front door. Through the glass, the elderly couple was visible, sprawled in front of the cash register as if shot while attempting to pay. But Lindsay saw Angie and Maggie Littleton, terror marring their youthful faces and blood defiling their clothes. She could feel the gentle pressure of Abe's hand on her elbow – he was one of a few on the force who knew her past, knew this scene would be tough.

"You can do this," he said softly. He believed in her.

_No_, Lindsay thought, not believing in herself. _I don't think I can. _She knew she had to, but she just couldn't make herself cross the threshold into the restaurant. Some of the officers were beginning to look at her questioningly. Her hard-won credibility was at stake, but she couldn't step through that door.

Abe began murmuring in her ear. "You know how important timely processing is, Monroe." He knew facts and a stern approach worked best with her. "We don't want anything compromised, we want to catch the animal that did this."

Lindsay closed her eyes. He was right, but she dreaded his next words all the same.

"Let's go, Linds. It's time."

_August 5, 2005  
Crime Lab  
Bozeman, Montana_

Abe found her outside in the scrubby courtyard, home of many employee smoke breaks. The rickety bench she was sitting on groaned as he sat beside her.

"You hear anything from that guy in New York?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes. Subterfuge was not one of Abe's strong points. Honesty and integrity, yes. Subtlety, no. "You know I have, or you wouldn't be out here."

"Yeah, well, Betsy, she took Taylor's message earlier when you were out on that robbery." Betsy, his daughter, covered the reception desk. Nepotism was alive and well here, and in the case of sweet, capable Betsy, not always a bad thing.

She smiled in acknowledgment. "He offered me the job." She had done her interview with the veteran CSI via live feed on her computer – the wonders of technology. "I think it was that paper I wrote for the Forensic Field Journal on blood spatter."

Abe was quiet, chewing absently on a straw from his Coke. She smiled at him, enjoying the comforting image. Mid-fifties, thinning hair, cheap polyester suit, stained tie – he looked straight out of central casting for the role of old time chauvinist cop. But Abe was nothing of the sort – behind the façade of tacky clothes, Brylcreamed hair and Old Spice beat the heart of an honest, kind man who believed anyone who worked hard enough deserved to succeed. He caught her eye suddenly, breaking her reverie.

"I'm going to miss you." Abe's eyes were tender, perhaps a bit misty. He had a tendency to treat her like an adopted daughter.

Lindsay blew out an impatient breath. "I didn't say I was taking it."

"But you will."

Now agitated, she stood up and began to pace. "I finally got my foot in here. Most of the guys actually look at me with something like respect, the Captain likes me …"

"And you've accomplished what you can here, Lindsay. It's time to break down more walls, rise through the ranks, reach your potential. You're not going to do that here. Old habits die hard, and while people think you're good at what you do, you're still a woman."

Abe's words were harsh, but not untrue. She was the token female in some ways. Everyone knew she was good, but many, women included, wondered why she wasn't married. Lesbian? Too independent? Couldn't cook?

No, Abe was right. She had risen about as high as she could here. But maybe this was supposed to be her pinnacle?

"My family's here," she said softly.

Abe stood beside her, hand on her arm. "All your siblings have flown the coop. You're the only one still here. Hell, your parents are always traveling anyway. Besides, your restless."

Lindsay had to admit it was true. "I still haven't caught him."

Her partner didn't have to ask of whom she spoke. "His time will come, and you will be here. You know I'll call."

"But New York, Abe? Across the country? The 'big city'?"

"What about this Taylor? You like him?"

She smiled. "Actually, I do. Very focused, very professional, but there's warmth there. He's a good man, speaks highly of his team. I like that. Plus, he wants to hire me – a definite point in his favor."

"They'd be a fool not to snap you up. I'd love to watch our country girl whip those city boys into shape."

Lindsay laughed, then sobered. "I've got to let him know today. They're shorthanded."

"And you're going to call him and say yes."

_Why?_ Lindsay asked herself. As if hearing her silent question, Abe came behind her, comforting hands on her shoulders. "Because you have to, hon." His next words she could have said with him, so sure was she that they were coming.

"It's time."

And so it was.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
